


the eyes of a demon lover

by SerenLyall



Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, I'll tag it with archive warnings when it happens, Some Graphic Violence, and child prostitution, and maybe some child sacrifices, basically let me deal with my childhood trauma and try to enjoy the ride, but there's probably going to be rape, catch me out here writing the genfic i always wanted to read, it's dark, the whole shebang, there's gonna be a lot in here though guys - you've been warned, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenLyall/pseuds/SerenLyall
Summary: When Jacob Carter is captured by the Goa'uld Khnum, SG-1 goes undercover to try to rescue him. Unfortunately for them, rescuing Jacob is going to be a lot harder than pretending to be someone else. It will put their bonds of loyalty - to each other, to him, to their world, and to the SGC - and their bonds of love to the test in ways they had never even imagined.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well well well. Would you look at this. Guess who randomly decided to return to her original fandom today, guys? I have NO idea how fast or slow this fic will be written. Basically it's a side project of a side project of a side project right now...but it's my only non-original and non-Tolkien work, so it'll probably get worked on a bit over the next few months. I have vague knowledge of where it's going, but not much more than that...so stay tuned, I guess? It's gonna be a wild ride for all of us...
> 
> (Also I know the premise is a lot like "Jolinar's Memories"/"The Devil You Know" but...it's gonna be very different. Promise.)
> 
> Well well well. Would you look at this. Guess who randomly decided to return to her original fandom today, guys? I have NO idea 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. And I hope you read the tags and so know what you're getting yourself into. You can't say I didn't warn you...
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy!

**PROLOGUE**

Jacob Carter held the zat’nik’tel close to his chest and tried not to breathe.

_How did this all go so bad?_ he wondered silently, counting his heart beats and the footsteps of the Jaffa marching past his hiding place. _When did this all go so awry?_

Just three hours before he had been the honored guest of the Goa’uld Khnum, eating what tasted like venison draped in grapes and citrus, and drinking fine wine. The room had been resplendent in draperies of green and gold silk, with tiled mosaics set into the walls depicting Khnum’s victories, old and new.

Khnum was one of the new Goa’uld. _Well,_ Jacob thought, pressing himself deeper into the cupboard in which he was hidden, _relatively new_. While he had been present during the days of the Egyptians, and had been respected and revered as a god throughout the Egyptian dynasties, he had never ascended to the position of System Lord.

He, however, planned for that to change—which was what had brought Jacob and Selmak to his planet of Kenturia.

“Welcome,” Khnum had cried as Jacob and Selmak were led into the throne room. It was luxurious beyond perception: tall pillars marched up and down the room along the pure gold walls to either side, marble inlaid with gold and silver and precious stones; the floor was made of quartz, rose and white and gold, fashioned into the likenesses of flowers opening to the torches and braziers that stood in even intervals throughout the room; the ceiling was high and vaulted, hung through with banners and flags proudly proclaiming Khnum’s sigil.

His throne stood on a raised dais of carved, black obsidian. His throne, likewise, was jet black, though it was streaked through with white. Golden ram’s heads formed knobs at the forefront of the armrests, and rams lying with their legs before them, in the fashion of the ancient Egyptians, flanked the steps leading up the dais.

A second throne sat beside and a little behind the first throne, from which Khnum rose. Jacob knew it was for Khnum’s queen and consort, Neith, the spider goddess. She sat there now, stunning in deep red that accented the olive of her host’s skin, the blackness of her hair, the darkness of her eyes, and looked down upon him with what seemed to be reproach. She, unlike Khnum, looked every inch the regal Egyptian queen.

Khnum, on the other hand, was short, with broad shoulders but a narrow chest. His hair and beard—which was shaved close to his jaw—were black but sprinkled through with silver. His eyes shone a rich blue, accenting the paleness of his skin. Unlike his queen—and to a stark contrast with his palace—he was dressed simply, in a short tunic and pants, leather boots, and a broad belt hung with dagger and purse. A hand device shone golden on his right arm, and a thin circlet of gold set with flecks of diamond, which caught and refracted the torchlight, rested upon his brow.

“I have heard great things about you, Tel’kar,” Khnum said, smiling broadly as he embraced Jacob and Selmak like an old friend. “Now tell me this: why are you turning on your master?”

It had taken the Tok’ra a year and seven months to seed the lies, rumors, and justifications that had made this moment possible. According to them—and according to Khnum’s beliefs—Telk’ar, one of Apophis’s minor lieutenants, wished to turn on Apophis to aid Khnum in his rise to power. After having fed Khnum valid information that their spies in Apophis’s ranks had discovered for six months, they had finally agreed for “Telk’ar” to abandon his post with Apophis to join Khnum.

Jacob and Selmak, with their wealth of experiences and knowledge—and whose face was as yet unknown—had been chosen for the mission.

Jacob and Selmak smiled mirthlessly. “Apophis is tight-fisted with his wealth and power,” they said—_Which is true_, Jacob thought privately to Selmak, who agreed. “I will never rise above lieutenant within his ranks. But with you, my lord?” Here Jacob and Selmak bowed, and lifted Khnum’s hand to kiss the signet ring on his forefinger. “With you,” they said, straightening, “I believe I have the chance to show my true potential, as a captain and general.”

“Good, good,” said Khnum. He turned, and motioned toward his queen. “Come now, Neith,” he called. “Come and meet our newest lieutenant.”

Neith rose from her throne and descended the stairs toward Jacob. She approached at a slow, measured walk, and Jacob and Selmak bowed again. “My queen,” they murmured, and kissed her ring as well. In return, she pressed her lips to their forehead in a silent blessing.

“Welcome to our court,” she said softly. Her voice was a deep, musical purr, and it made Jacob’s bones quiver.

“Now let us adjourn to the banqueting hall,” Khnum said. “I have prepared a welcoming feast for you, my treasured spy.” He winked at Jacob, then turned and swept out of the throne room and onto a veranda through a side door.

The veranda overlooked a long, broad river that reminded Jacob of the Nile. He wondered if that was why Khnum had chosen this location for his palace. According to Tok’ra intelligence, most of the planet was temperate rainforests, mountains, and plains. Only a few deserts brightened the planet’s surface. Yet Khnum had chosen to make his home in one of them—and on a river that cut through the largest of the planet’s deserts, no less.

_He is trying to relive the time of his glory on Earth,_ Selmak told Jacob. Jacob was inclined to agree.

The table on the veranda was slung low to the ground, with cushions for reclining to every side, and its surface laden with food of every imagination. Jacob settled himself onto an orange cushion to Khnum’s left—Neith took the cushion and place to his right—while Khnum claimed the seat at the head of the table. Once he was settled, human slaves came forward with pitchers of wine, ladles, and tongs, and began to serve the food.

“Tell me,” said Khnum, taking a bite of light, white bread, “why did you choose a host so old? You are yet young, are you not, Tel’kar? You have not had time to age with your host, as I have.”

“The host I chose was a general of his people,” said Jacob and Selmak, their voice resonant with Selmak’s power. “He already had a wealth of knowledge and experience—which I fully intended to mine for my own profit.”

“Clever,” said Neith, daintily picking a piece of melon from her plate with long-nailed fingers. “More of our youth should choose hosts based on aspiration and intent, rather than attraction.”

“I agree,” said Khnum. He looked at Jacob and Selmak with sharp eyes. “And what _are_ your aspirations and intentions, Tel’kar?”

“I wish to be a general,” said Jacob and Selmak. “I wish to lead great hosts of armies, to order Jaffa to victory and defeat, to be responsible for death—of my foes, of my people, of myself. I wish to be a master of fate.”

“Not a System Lord?” Neith asked.

Jacob and Selmak shook their head. “To be a System Lord is a dangerous thing,” he said. “You will, one day, be supplanted by someone younger and more powerful. Is it not better to serve one lord, than to die at the hands of an apprentice?”

“But are not generals slain when their master is conquered?” Neith asked.

Here Jacob and Selmak smiled. “Not necessarily,” they said. “Not if the general is smart and clever.”

“So you are not beholden to one lord,” said Khnum shrewdly. “You are beholden only to your own preservation and your own success.”

Jacob and Selmak raised an eyebrow. “Is that not the way every Goa’uld is?” he asked the two gods. “Interested in their own wealth and their own power—but above all, their own preservation?”

Khnum laughed, long and loud. When at last he calmed, he said, “You are wise for you years, young Tel’kar.”

Jacob and Selmak bowed their head, accepting the compliment with grace.

“Now then,” said Khnum, “on to business. You have a week here before your absence will be questioned, do you not?”

Jacob and Selmak nodded.

“Very good,” said Khnum. “That will give us plenty of time to plan.” He smiled, and his eyes danced. “I have many ideas for you, young Tel’kar,” he said. “Many ideas indeed.”

~*o*~

After dinner they retreated to a lounge. There they smoked, and drank a light alcohol that tasted of cherries, and enjoyed the company of scantily clad boys and girls that could have been no more than 17.

_This is making my skin crawl,_ Jacob informed Selmak as a girl who looked about 15, clad only in strips of cloth to give her modesty, rubbed Jacob’s neck and shoulders.

_You have only seen a little of what the Goa’uld are capable of_, Selmak told him gently. _I am afraid this is not uncommon._

_It is not uncommon for _children_ to be forced into work as sex slaves?_

Selmak sighed. _The Goa’uld have…appetites. Appetites for power. Appetites for dominion. Appetites for pain. They often sate those appetites through most grievous means._

_I should kill the bastard right now,_ Jacob growled silently.

_You and I would be killed before we reached the corridor, let alone the Stargate,_ Selmak told him with cruel logic. _And trust me—Neith is no better. If you kill Khnum, you had best kill Neith too._

_I will, then, _said Jacob.

_Perhaps,_ said Selmak. _If the situation demands it._

_The situation _is_ demanding it,_ Jacob snarled as the girl leaned over his shoulder to run her hands down his chest, her fingers, cool and long and gentle, creeping beneath his shirt.

_I know you are thinking of catching her wrists to stop her,_ Selmak said not unkindly. _I would not advise it. You have a reputation to uphold and maintain—a reputation that will be damaged if you show too much care for the slaves who are here to provide comfort and release._

_I just don’t want—_

“Enough,” Jacob said aloud, catching the girl’s wrist in one steady hand, halting her downward progression. Khnum and Neith, who had been speaking of the recent imports from their slave worlds of Kala and Tula, sat up, startled. His heart in his throat, Jacob turned and half-rose, throwing the girl to the ground. She landed with the hard _slap_ of bare flesh against the wooden floorboards, her head cracking against the leg of a stand sitting by the door. She did not cry out—merely picked herself up with one arm braced against the ground, lowering dark eyes to the floor in a meek and fearful expression.

“What did she do to displease you?” Khnum asked, brushing aside the hands that had been massaging his head and hips.

“She existed,” Jacob growled, frantically looking for some justification for his actions.

Khnum waved a hand, and the girl scuttled from the room. “She will be punished for displeasing you,” he informed Jacob.

_She’ll be killed,_ Selmak told Jacob flatly. _Or sent to a whorehouse down in the city, which is as good as a death sentence. You’ve killed her, Jacob._

“No,” said Jacob, only to realize he had spoken aloud.

“No?” Khnum asked. “But she offended you.”

Jacob frantically looked for some way out. “I want her,” he said suddenly, an idea coming to him. “She offended me because I could not have her for myself in her entirety.”

Khnum smiled. “Is that so?” he asked. Jacob nodded. “Very well then,” he said. “She will be sent to your rooms tonight.”

Jacob relaxed into the sofa on which he lounged. “I thank you, my lord,” he said smoothly. “You are kind and gracious.”

Khnum laughed. “That I am,” he said. He waved a hand again, and a new youth—a boy this time, about 16—approached Jacob and Selmak and began to work on his shoulders. Khnum brought his hands together in a clap, and as the boy and girl began their work on him again, he said, “Now then, tell me all that you know about Apophis’s generals.”

Jacob and Selmak told him and Neith what they could. They spoke long into the night of Mok, Apophis’s leading general, who was as intelligent as he was cruel, and who had won more victories over the other System Lords than any other general; of Corcal, who was witty and sadistic, and who had Apophis’s ear and trust; of Amin, who led his troops in battle personally, and who had been saved from assassination thrice by his own Jaffa; of Lur, who was the best pilot in Apophis’s army as well as a general, and who had more kills than any Jaffa. They spoke of those who Apophis trusted, and those he did not—of those who Apophis would listen to, and those he would ignore. They spoke of betrayal, and those who would be willing to forego their loyalty to Apophis for someone who would win in a war against him.

At last, however, once the braziers had burned low and Jacob had almost forgotten the hands massaging his back, Khnum said, “But I am sure you are most eager to partake in the delights of the slave girl. Go now to your rooms, and enjoy a rapturous night.”

Jacob and Selmak rose, bowed, then left the lounge on the heels of a slave that Khnum directed to show them their rooms. The slave led them through the palace in silence—up a dozen flights of stairs, down countless hallways, up even more corridors, around innumerable corners until Jacob and Selmak were both thoroughly lost. At last, however, they came to a halt. The slave bowed, silent as a mute man, and then departed, bare feet as a ghost upon the carpet.

Jacob took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The slave girl was already there. She sat on the bed, naked but for a golden collar around her neck. Her eyes were bent to the mattress beneath her folded legs, her dark hair, lightly curled, tumbling around her shoulders in waves. Her long lashes were dark against her pale skin, hiding her brown eyes from view.

Jacob sighed and entered the room, closing the door behind him. The girl did not move, except to look up and say, “Greetings, my lord. What would you have me do?”

Jacob massaged his temples. “First of all,” he said, “I’d have you cover up with something.”

The girl looked startled. “But,” she said, clearly floundering, “don’t you want to fuck me?”

“No,” said Jacob tiredly. He strode toward the bed, averting his gaze, and tossed the blanket folded at the end of it toward her. “Wrap yourself in that, then go sit on the desk chair,” her ordered her.

She stared at him, disbelieving, for a long second—then snatched the blanket up from where it lay by her knees and hurriedly wrapped it around herself. She scrambled off of the bed, then crossed to the desk and chair in the corner and sat dutifully.

Once she was seated and suitably covered, Jacob turned to look at her. “Listen,” he said, “if you value your life, you will say I fucked you all night, and that it was the best sex you’ve ever had—assuming you’ve had sex before.”

The girl nodded, and Jacob’s heart sank into his stomach.

“Right,” he said. “Well. If you know what’s good for you, like I said, you’ll claim I had sex with you all night long, and enjoyed myself. I’ll ask for you again tomorrow night—and the night after—assuming you promise to play our little charade.”

“Charade?” the girl asked.

Jacob shrugged. “It’s a word from my host’s planet,” he said. “It means game. Farce. Façade.”

“Oh,” said the girl. “Very well.”

Jacob sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Telia,” said the girl.

“I’m—Tel’kar,” said Jacob. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The girl looked confused. “You’re not like any other Goa’uld I’ve met before,” she said slowly.

Jacob shrugged. “And you likely won’t again,” he informed her. “But remember—you and I are our little secret. Don’t tell anyone about me, and I won’t tell anyone about you.”

The girl nodded.

“Do you promise?” Jacob asked.

“I promise,” said the girl.

Jacob nodded. “Good. Now I’m going to sleep. Sleep if you like, or don’t—I don’t particularly care.”

_Liar,_ Selmak, who had been watching silently, said.

_Oh shush,_ said Jacob.

Telia nodded, then hiked the blanket higher around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she aid softly.

Jacob smiled a mirthless smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “There’s still a lot of ways this can go wrong.”

~*o*~

The next three days passed in a haze of meetings, conversations, and monotonous court functions. Jacob and Selmak suffered through it all, gathering what information they could glean about Khnum and Neith and the rest of the Goa’uld under their dominion, as well as gathering intelligence on the rest of the System Lords from Khnum’s own spies and intelligence network. They committed it all to memory for an oral report to the Tok’ra once they returned at the end of the week, and suffered through the many banquets and dances that Khnum and Neith held in their lavish palace.

A few times, it seemed to Jacob that he caught Neith’s eyes on him at the strangest of moments: at dinner; in the gardens as they walked together with Khnum, discussing trade routes that they wanted to take over from Apophis; as they were dancing close together, Neith in Khnum’s arms—or in the arms of one of her own consorts, which Jacob had quickly found out she had many of—a stranger in Jacob’s. Her look was hungry, predatory, desirous—but Jacob dismissed it as his imagination, or as him making oaks out of acorns.

Every night, Telia was in Jacob and Selmak’s room. Every night, she was waiting for them naked on the bed—and every night Jacob tossed her the blanket and ordered her to the chair. The longer he went without forcing himself upon her, the more confused she seemed to become.

Then, on Jacob and Selmak’s fourth day on Kenturia, everything went wrong.

The sound of footsteps, pattering hurried and harried on the flagstone floor, came down the hall. Jacob and Selmak turned—in time to see Telia racing toward him. She careened into his chest, putting her hands out to stop herself; only Jacob reaching out to grab her kept her from tumbling to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” the girl sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Jacob frowned. “It’s fine,” he told her—but she only shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said again—and suddenly, Jacob didn’t think she was talking about running into him.

“Telia,” he said slowly, “what did you do?”

“Mistress asked me questions, and she knew I was lying. She—she hurt me, and then… I’m sorry, Tel’kar!” she cried. “They’re coming to arrest you.”

Jacob and Selmak turned and ran.

The first guard he’d come across had been alone. Jacob knocked him unconscious and stole his zat, then ran again. The second and third guards he had found had been together; Jacob killed them, then disintegrated their bodies. Then, though, he had run into an entire squad of them.

They gave chase. Jacob, fleet of foot and full of desperation, managed to stay ahead of them for ten seconds, twelve, fifteen. Then: a door standing ajar. He dove for it, ducked behind it, held his breath and waited, waited, waited…

The guards ran past.

_We have to make it to the Stargate,_ Selmak told him. _Or steal a ship. Those are our only hopes._

_To the ship bay it is, then,_ Jacob said. _The Stargate is too far._ Selmak agreed.

They were two hallways over and one floor down, halfway past lost, when they ran into more guards. Again Jacob ran, and again the guards gave chase. Jacob fired off one shot, two shots, three, and he heard bodies fall with each.

He rounded a corner and then a second, a third, a fourth, until the sound of his pursuit faded away behind him. He knew it was only a matter of time until he ran into more Jaffa, however—and he did not trust his luck to hold out.

He opened a door, then another, then another. Each time he closed it again and moved on; it was not what he was looking for. Until, with his fifth try, it was.

It was a small, cramped cupboard with linen sheets folded neatly on the shelves. Jacob pulled the sheets off of the bottom shelf and shoved them haphazardly onto the others, uncaring for whether or not they were wrinkled. Then he crawled in, pulling the door shut with his fingernails. Mere seconds later, he heard a squad of Jaffa pass.

_Why?_ he wondered to Selmak. _Why do they want to arrest me for not having had sex with an underage girl?_

_Because you lied to them,_ said Selmak. _Because you are displaying very un-Goa’uld-like behavior by not wanting to have sex with her. Because she lied for you. Must I go on?_

_No,_ said Jacob. _You’ve made your point._

Now here they were, waiting for the night to fall and the hubbub to die down. Jacob hoped he could sneak to the hangar bay once the palace went to sleep—hoped that they would assume he had slipped out of the palace and into the city and would turn their attention there.

Footsteps, heavy and hard. Jacob held his breath as another squad of Jaffa passed, staff weapons glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the windows in the opposite wall. Jacob could just see through the crack beneath the door and the floor. Then they were past as well, and Jacob let out his breath.

_Just a few more hours,_ he thought. _A few more hours, and then I’m free._

The creak of floorboards. The groan of a door handle. Then: a flood of light.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I got another chapter written. Go me! I hope you all enjoy - and hopefully it makes sense and is plausible!

**CHAPTER 1**

_“Warning: Unscheduled off-world activation.”_

Colonel Jack O'Neill of the United States Air Force leapt up the stairs into the control room two at a time. He had been passing by on his way down to the labs, where he fully intended to bully the nerds of his team into eating lunch, when the alarm had sounded. Now he pounded into the small, dim room overlooking the Gate Room, a frown darkening his face.

“Who is it?” he demanded of Walter.

“IDC coming in now, sir,” Walter replied. He was a short, balding man, with blue eyes behind round glasses, and a bright disposition. Though he worked in one of the most dangerous facilities in the world, doing one of the most stressful and strenuous jobs on base—controlling the Gate—he never seemed to lose the shining spark in his gaze, the quick quirk of his lips, the ready laugh from his chest.

Jack liked him.

General George Hammond appeared in the stairwell down from the conference room and his office, a worried look on his face. “SG-5 wasn’t scheduled to report in for another six hours,” he said. “What—”

“It’s the Tok'ra, sir,” Walter said, butting in.

“Open the iris,” General Hammond commanded.

The _shlink-thud_ of the iris opening rang through the Gate Room and the Control Room, and Walter’s and General Hammond’s faces were bathed with the shimmering, blue light of the active wormhole.

The wormhole shivered, then coalesced around the figure of a tall, humanoid man with blond hair and a pointed chin. He looked up at the control room as soon as his feet touched the ramp, scanning the faces there for something—or someone. Jack suspected he knew who the Tok'ra was looking for, and knew he would be disappointed, for Samantha Carter was not present.

The wormhole deactivated, plunging the room into eerie stillness and dimness. The Tok'ra waited patiently while General Hammond gestured for Jack to precede him down the Control Room stairs and into the Gate Room.

“Martouf,” Jack said with false warmth as he entered the Gate Room, the blast door sliding open at his oncoming footsteps.

“Colonel O'Neill,” Martouf replied with his customary stiffness. He sketched a bow and added, “General Hammond,” as the General entered as well. “Please, where is Major Carter?”

“Down in her lab,” Jack said with the barest hint of a frown emerging from behind his warm mask. “Why?”

“What I have to say concerns her greatly,” Martouf said, “and I would tell her first, before any other.”

Jack shared a look with General Hammond, who barely visibly shook his head in consternation—_This isn’t how we do things here,_ he seemed to say—but then nodded. “Gather your team,” General Hammond ordered. “We will meet in the briefing room in half an hour.”

“Yes sir,” said Jack, before turning smartly on his heel and leaving the Gate Room.

Jack headed up to Level 18 first. The elevator rattled just as it always did as it passed Level 24, and the light fifteen steps past the elevator flickered just as it had for the last month and a half. It was comfortingly familiar, in a place where the unfamiliar happened almost daily, and it gave Jack a sense of reassurance as he caught the frame of Daniel’s office and swung himself through the doorway.

“Hello, Danny Boy,” Jack said brightly, blinking against the dimness that Daniel always kept his office in. Three desk lamps burned throughout the room, on various pieces of furniture—one on his desk, one on a bookshelf, the third on a table by the door—but the numerous books and papers scattered over every surface, and the maps and translation tools hung on what little spare spaces of walls there were, seemed to swallow the light.

“Oh,” said Daniel, looking up from the three books he had open on his desk. He swiveled around in his chair to look at Jack, then said, “Hey. What was the Offworld Activation?”

“Martouf,” Jack said bluntly.

“Oh,” said Daniel again. He looked down at his books, sighed, then marked them with leather bookmarks and closed them. “I take it we’re being summoned.” It was not a question.

“Yup,” said Jack anyway.

Daniel followed Jack out of his office, turning off the desk lamps as he went. He fell into step alongside Jack, stuffing his hands into his BDU pockets and adopting a pensive, thoughtful expression.

“Did Martouf say what he wanted?” Daniel asked. “We weren’t scheduled to have another meeting with the Tok’ra for another month, I thought.”

Jack shrugged. “All he said was that he wanted to talk to Carter.”

Daniel’s pensive look morphed into a frown. “He didn’t say why?”

“Nope,” said Jack.

They reached the elevator and Jack punched the button to call it. They waited in silence, Daniel bouncing on his toes, Jack humming quietly to himself. The elevator arrived with a small _ding_, and the two of them piled in past the two Airmen who exited.

Their ride was short—just one level down. Barely more than a little later, Daniel and Jack were arriving at Major Samantha Carter’s lab. The lights were on, and Carter was sitting at a lab table, writing by hand in a thick spiral-bound notebook.

“Whatcha working on?” Jack asked, coming to a halt beside Carter. He had learned a long time ago not to stop directly behind her without her knowing he was there; that was a good way to get an elbow in the gut or groin—a fact which he had learned the hard way.

Carter looked up at Jack and gave him a piercing look. “Do you really want to know?” she asked, tilting the notebook up just enough that Jack was able to get a good look at the scribbles of math and physics filling the entirety of the page.

“No,” Jack said, relieved that Carter had given him an out.

Daniel, standing behind Jack, laughed. “For the record,” he said, “I am actually curious.”

“You two can talk technobabble on the way to get Teal’c,” Jack said. “Now come on, Carter,” he added, shooing her off of her lab stool and out of the door, “you can scribble nonsense letters later. Right now we have a meeting to attend.”

Carter frowned, turning in her tracks to walk backwards so she could look at Jack. “We aren’t going off-world for another two days,” she protested. “That means we shouldn’t have a briefing until tomorrow—what’s come up?” She narrowed her eyes. “Does this have to do with the unscheduled off-world activation?”

“You two are far too smart,” Jack groused good-naturedly. “Yes,” he said. “As Daniel guessed—and you guessed—it has to do with the off-world activation. And before you ask, it’s Martouf, and no, I don’t know why he’s here. He just said he wanted to talk to you, and Hammond sent me to go collect you all.”

“You’re sure you have no idea why Martouf is here?” Carter asked as the elevator door closed on Level 19, and they began to descend again.

“I’m sure,” said Jack. “Like I said, all he said was that he wanted to talk to you.” He looked at Carter, whose frown grew.

“Me?” she asked. “Why me?” Then she paled.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“I just have a bad feeling,” Carter said stiffly, and then fell silent—and remained silent as the three of them trekked their way to the gym, where they all knew Teal’c would be exercising. He liked to work out in the mornings, between breakfast and lunch, unless they had meetings or were off-world—and even then he often did exercises before departing from their campsites at dawn.

Teal’c was lifting hand weights when they arrived, sweat glistening on his dark skin and a look of concentration stamped deep into his brow. He paused when he saw the three of them come in together, Jack in the lead, and then carefully placed the weights back onto their shelf.

“What has transpired?” he asked, walking over to them standing at the edge of the mats.

“Martouf showed up,” Jack informed him. “We’ve been summoned to debrief with him.”

Teal’c nodded, collected his towel from the rack on the wall, then followed the rest of the team out into the corridor, blotting his face and wiping his neck on the towel as he did so. Jack cast a glance over Teal’c, noting his sweat-soaked tank, his exercise pants, his soft-soled shoes, then said, “We have time if you’d like to change back into your BDUs.”

“I would appreciate that,” said Teal’c with a slight incline of his torso at the waist.

They detoured to Teal’c’s quarters, whereat Jack and the rest of the team waited outside in the hall while Teal’c changed. He appeared a few minutes later, clad in a standard issue black shirt and green BDU pants, boots, and with his jacket in hand. He pulled it on as they walked back to the elevator, buttoning it as they rode down to the 27th level.

Martouf was sitting stiffly at the conference table when Jack led SG-1 into the Briefing Room. General Hammond was just visible in his office, talking on the phone. Martouf looked up at the sound of their boots on the stairs, then rose quickly to his feet.

“Major Carter,” he said, moving so that he could reach out to clasp her hand. She gave it to him warily, sharing a quick, barely-there glance with Daniel. “I am glad to see you again. As I am you, Dr. Jackson, and you, Jaffa Teal’c.”

Daniel offered a smile, while Teal’c offered half a bow. Then the five of them sat down at the conference table to wait for General Hammond, who appeared a moment later. Jack and Carter leapt to their feet as he entered the room, and only sat again once he sank into the chair at the head of the table.

“Now tell us, Martouf,” said General Hammond seriously, “what brings you here?”

Jack watched as Martouf’s gaze slid from General Hammond to Carter, where it remained. “I fear it is Jacob and Selmak,” said Martouf grimly. Jack turned his own gaze on Carter, just in time to watch as she paled again and went very still, her lips thinning into a hard, white line.

“What about them?” she asked.

“We believe he was captured by the Goa’uld Khnum and his queen, Neith.”

“You believe?” Jack could not help but ask, leaning forward. “Then you don’t know for sure?”

“We are very sure,” said Martouf coldly.

“How?” Carter asked suddenly.

“How…what?” Martouf asked.

“How do you know he was captured? And how _was_ he captured?”

“The latter we do not know, as we have had no contact with him or with our spies in Khnum’s courts since it happened. The former we know because he was meant to return to a rendezvous point two weeks ago, and we have heard nothing from him since.”

“Then he could be dead.” Carter’s voice was flat and emotionless, hiding the raging storm Jack knew had to be buried there.

Martouf sighed. “He could be dead,” he admitted. “However, if he had been slain, Khnum likely would have made it public that he had killed the Tok’ra Selmak—and we have heard nothing. We do not even know if Khnum knows that Selmak is a Tok’ra, though we cannot figure out any other reason why he would have been captured.”

“Thank you for bringing us this news,” said General Hammond, making to rise—only for Martouf to lift a hand.

“If you will, General,” he said, “bringing news of Selmak and Jacob’s capture was not my only errand here.”

General Hammond sat again. “What, then, is the rest of your errand?”

“We believe we have a way to extract Selmak and Jacob—or at least determine where he is, as well as make contact with our silenced spies. But doing so will require the aid of one of your teams.”

General Hammond raised on eyebrow. “Explain,” he ordered.

“Two days hence,” Martouf said, “we have had reports that a slave culling will take place. That means that slave raids will happen throughout the planets neighboring Khnum’s holdings. These slaves will be taken and used in his palace and in his capitol city on Kenturia. This will be the perfect opportunity to seed new spies in Khnum’s court.”

“And how does this affect my people?”

“We need humans—not hosts,” said Martouf. “Goa’uld can tell in an instant if there is a symbiote within a human. They will know immediately that we are Tok’ra if we try to infiltrate the slave market as hosts. Your people, however, can get in, and get close, without the Goa’uld knowing what is happening—without knowing that the slaves they have taken are Taur’i, or anything other than the beaten-down humans they are accustomed to dealing with.”

“What about me?” Carter asked, leaning forward. “My blood still contains the protein marker that Jolinar left. They’ll be able to tell I was a host.”

“A former host,” Martouf pointed out. “If a symbiote dies, the host is very commonly used as slave fodder. If anything, you would be in higher demand.”

“And what of Teal’c?” Jack asked, leaning forward as well. “Carter says she can feel Junior. Won’t the Goa’uld be able to tell that he’s a Jaffa?”

“We can seed him in with the Jaffa ranks,” said Martouf. “It will be trickier than getting the rest of you into the slave market, but it will be doable.”

“This is all assuming that I am on board with this idea,” said General Hammond, “which I am not.”

Carter turned to look at the General. “Please, Sir,” she said, and Jack was not sure if he had ever heard her sound so plaintive or pleading before. He expected a long-winded, verbose, moving speech from her—he knew she was capable of them, of stirring people to action, of rising blood and fervor—expected a call to action from their General. Instead all she said was, “He’s my father.”

General Hammond sighed. “What guarantees do you have that my people will be safe?” he asked Martouf.

“We will fit them with microscopic transponders, so we will know where they are at all times,” he promised. “Furthermore, we can install recording devices in their ear canals, so that we can monitor what they hear at all times. If something goes wrong, we can pull them out right away.”

“If they are slaves, though,” said General Hammond, “how do you expect they will escape?”

“We will send someone in to buy them,” said Martouf.

“And if their owners are not selling?”

“We can be…persuasive.”

General Hammond shook his head. “I do not like the idea of my people becoming property for anyone else,” he said, “even for a short amount of time. It goes against every principle and statute of our country.”

Jack, watching Carter, made up his mind.

“Shouldn’t it be our choices, sir?” he asked.

General Hammond looked at him with eyebrows raised.

“I mean,” Jack went on, “we’re the ones who will be suffering enslavement, if we agree to this. I assume we _are _the team you’ll be sending?”

“If I agree to it, yes,” said General Hammond. “You are.”

“Then should it not be our choice whether or not we get to put ourselves through this?” he asked.

“What kind of slavery will this be?” Daniel asked, speaking up for the first time since the debriefing had begun. “Chattel slavery? Old World slavery? Sex slavery?”

“You will likely be bought by Khnum’s steward,” said Martouf. “I will not lie and say that Khnum and Neith do not have…perverse tastes, but they are generally geared more towards younger children and adolescents. You are not in any danger of being used as sex slaves. Most likely you will find yourselves serving wine at banquets, and cleaning rooms and hallways, or mucking out stalls.”

Daniel sat back with a glance at Carter. “As disturbed as I am by that knowledge,” he said, “I’m willing to do this. If it helps us get Jacob and Selmak out, then what choice do we have, really?”

“I am willing to do this mission as well,” said Teal’c.

“Me too,” said Jack.

“I did not say you could go,” said General Hammond.

“He’s my father,” Carter said again, staring the General dead in the eye.

General Hammond sighed. “I know, Major,” he said heavily. “Which is why I am even considering it.” He looked up at Martouf. “I will inform you of my decision by the end of the day. You are more than welcome to remain here until then.”

“My thanks, General Hammond,” said Martouf.

“You all are dismissed,” said the General. He rose and disappeared into his office.

They all sat in silence for a long moment, sharing weighted looks. Then, abruptly, Jack stood as well, brought his hands together in a clap, and said, “Let’s go to O’Malley’s.”

Daniel looked at Jack as if he had gone crazy. “I’m not sure now is the time for steaks, Jack,” he said pointedly with a flick of his eyes toward Carter.

“Nope,” said Jack, “now is the _perfect_ time for steaks. Plus, Martouf has never been, and it’s a national treasure. Right, Teal’c?”

“You are correct,” said Teal’c—though whether he suspected what Jack was intending or not, he had no way of knowing. Regardless, Jack was grateful that he was going along with it.

“So, O’Malley’s it is,” said Jack. He turned to Martouf, who was looking at them with a mixture of confusion and carefully concealed alarm. “Martouf, you’ll have to borrow some of our clothes—but you and Daniel should be about the same size. Daniel? Will you let him borrow some of your clothes?”

Daniel sighed, but with another glance at Carter, nodded. “Sure, Jack,” he said, sounding tired.

“Meet up top in fifteen minutes?” Jack asked.

The rest of the team nodded and they dispersed, Martouf dragged off by Daniel to his on-base quarters. Jack grabbed Carter on the way out, however, halting her just before she descended the metal steps to the Control Room, presumably to go talk to Walter about something before she went to change herself.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jack told her. He offered her a small smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

She nodded, then turned and left without another word, the metal stairs clanging beneath her boots.

Sighing, Jack went to change.

An hour later, they walked into O’Malley’s, Martouf wedged into the middle of them. He was dressed in one of Daniel’s t-shirts and jackets, as well as jeans and his Tok’ra boots. He looked strange, Jack thought—strange in an off-kilter way, as if seeing him without his Tok’ra uniform in its entirety made the entire world a little more insane and unhinged.

They had not talked much on the way down the mountain to the city, and when they had talked it had been about nothings: the weather—the winter they were having, the spring they hoped to have, the summer they feared having—and who was dating who on base. Martouf was silent throughout, looking even more and more confused the longer they talked about romantic interactions between people he had never heard of. Until, at last, “What am I doing here?” he asked as soon as their waitress had showed them to their booth.

“I need you here,” said Jack, “to plan.”

Martouf froze, as did everyone else around the table.

“What do you mean, Jack?” Daniel asked.

“I mean,” said Jack, “for all that he cares about Jacob and you, Carter, I don’t think the General is going to let us go on this mission. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend to let Jacob die in some Goa’uld prison when we could have done something about it.”

Martouf leaned forward. “I cannot jeopardize the treaty between our peoples,” he said. “If your General does not green light this mission, I cannot give you any of the safety precautions you would otherwise have. I can aid you personally, but the Tok’ra as a whole cannot—and it is only with their help that we can provide you with the transponder and the communication device.”

“We understand,” said Carter, speaking up and surprising Jack. She looked more eager than she had since Martouf had told them that Jacob was a prisoner. She did not smile, did not grin, but there was feral pleasure in her bright, blue eyes when she looked first at Martouf, then at Jack, then at Daniel and Teal’c.

“We’ll be going against orders,” Daniel pointed out.

“Since when has that stopped us before?” Jack asked.

“Before it was for the safety of the world,” Daniel said.

“And this is for Carter’s dad,” said Jack. “I don’t see a difference here.”

Daniel grinned mirthlessly. “I’m in,” he said, “don’t get me wrong. We just have to think this through. Before there wouldn’t have been a world to come back to if we failed. This time there is.”

“If you fail,” said Martouf, “you will most likely die.”

“Oh, good, thanks Martouf,” Jack said dryly.

“Then we succeed, and you and Sam get court martialed,” said Daniel. “And Teal’c loses his immunity, and I lose my job. What do we do then? Is it worth it?”

“How is this even a question?” Carter asked suddenly. “This is my _father’s life_, Daniel.”

“I know, Sam,” said Daniel, meeting her gaze squarely. “I just want to make sure we all know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

“We know,” said Teal’c.

Daniel nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Then let’s start planning.”

They talked their way through steaks, mashed potatoes, green beans, and thick slices of corn bread. They spoke of where to find Jacob and Selmak; what to do once they were captured; how to get themselves selected by Khnum’s steward; how they were going to extract themselves once they had Jacob and Selmak in their hands. But mostly they talked of how to escape the SGC and make it to the planet Martouf recommended as their staging point for the culling.

By the time they were scraping the last of the ice cream from their plates of Sundae Surprises, they thought they had a working plan.

“What now?” Martouf asked as they stood and gathered their coats, Carter grabbing her purse from the floor of the booth.

“Now we go back and pretend like we had a filling meal and a riveting conversation about Earth and Taur’i traditions,” said Jack, “and we wait to see if General Hammond approves the mission or not.”

They traipsed out of O’Malley’s and piled into Jack’s truck, Martouf squeezed into the back between Carter and Daniel, Teal’c up front with Jack. They drove back to Cheyenne Mountain in silence, each lost in thought as to what they were—likely—about to do.

_Either way,_ thought Jack as they were waved through the gate and onto the base, _it’s going to be an interesting next few weeks._ Of that, Jack was certain.


End file.
